Harry Potter and the Cupboardy Disaster
by Tilly's
Summary: Draco never thought he'd see the day when Potter handled a situation with more maturity than he did. But then, he didn't know Potter's history with cupboards, or how gorgeous he looked in one. SLASH


_Draco never thought he'd see the day when Potter handled a situation with more maturity than he did. But then, he didn't know Potter's history with cupboards, or how gorgeous he looked in one. SLASH_

**Disclaimer: I owe nothing you recognize, not even the cupboard**

**Warnings: Fairly explicit (well, in my opinion) content and SLASH. Don't read if you don't like!**

**Harry Potter and the Cupboard-y Disaster**

"I can't _believe_ my fucking luck", Draco Malfoy cursed, dragging his hand through his silky smooth blonde hair. He glared at the door with a determination that would have made it pop open, if only he knew wandless magic.

From behind him he heard a heavy sigh, which only served to fuel his anger. As if it wasn't enough being pushed into a damn cupboard like he was a fucking first year, he had to share said cupboard with the bane of his existence.

"What is it, Potter?" Draco turned around with a glare. On the opposite side of the cupboard, which wasn't very away from Draco at all, sat the boy-who-lived-only-to-torture. He looked perfectly at ease; his emerald eyes were even a bit bored. Why Harry Potter, who was pathetically easy to rile up, didn't look bothered to be trapped in a closet with Draco Malfoy, went beyond Draco's comprehension. This in itself was a feat, because Draco was certain there were few things he did not know.

"Nothing at all", Potter replied lazily. He flicked some imaginary dust off his grey pants and resumed looking throughout fully bored. It was really nerve-racking; the day Potter showed more patience than Draco. This Draco knew with certainty. So he swallowed down whatever protest that wanted to bubble to the surface and slid down on the floor.

The floor he was now sharing with Potter. He didn't know what was worse; being this close to Potter, or actually deign to sit on a dusty floor in a cupboard at Hogwarts. Draco shook his head and buried his handsome face in his hands.

"Are you going to cry, Malfoy?" Trust Potter to sound amused. Draco's head snapped up faster than you could say 'flobberworm'. He fixed Potter with his nastiest glare and tried to ignore how Potter actually looked rather attractive up close.

"Shut your trap, Potter", he all but growled (although growling was far below a Malfoy's dignity). "I'm sure it's your fault we're trapped here".

Potter actually had the audacity to laugh at Draco's claim and the blond would be damned if he admitted that it was a nice laugh.

"Yeah, because it was my secret wish to get you alone in a cupboard so I could have my wicked way with you", he said dryly.

Unwanted pictures filled Draco's mind at Potter's words. Messy brown hair teasing his chin, hot breath against his mouth, gasps filling the quiet of the cupboard. Draco's head snapped up as he realized his thoughts were wandering off into dangerous territory.

"Wouldn't surprise me", Draco shot back, trying to calm his breathing. He knew getting stuck in a cupboard with Potter was a surefire way of getting completely screwed up. As if the stupid dreams weren't enough of a pain in the ass.

Potter sighed, another one of his world-ending sighs. "Listen Malfoy, I actually don't mind being trapped in a cupboard. Having you here's just a minor setback. I spent most of my childhood in one, so I'm honestly used to it. But if you don't stop whining we'll only kill each other".

Draco listened in silence, trying but failing not to feel surprised. During their eighth year, he'd come to the sad realization that Potter had grown up even the tiniest bit. Something like that was bound to happen, what with everything Potter had gone through. Defeating a Dark Lord, hiding from said Dark Lord for a year, and losing loved ones, was bound to do the job. But Draco found it really hard to stomach that the annoying Gryffindor had an IQ over a hundred. It was even more difficult to stomach that Potter was behaving with more maturity than he, Draco Malfoy, was at the moment.

Not to mention the tad piece of information Potter had let slip.

"What do you mean, 'spent your childhood in a cupboard'? You were probably showered with love and flowers", Draco sneered. Beneath his careful mask of disdain he regarded the other boy eagerly. He noticed how Potter's features darkened and the messy dark head dipped even lower, almost like he was ashamed. Something peaked in Draco, and he tried to tell himself it was glee that Potter was uncomfortable, and not some damn curiosity.

Malfoys weren't curious. It was things for commoners and cats and ultimately lead to an untimely death.

"Nothing", Potter finally replied.

For some reason Draco missed those piercing green eyes that had been regarding him seconds before. Now it felt like Potter was closing up and that meant that the stay in the cupboard would be infinitely more boring.

Say what you want about Potter, but boring he was not.

"Come on, you can tell me. I hate your guts so you don't have to run the risk of receiving sympathy", he drawled. On the inside, he wondered why those words didn't sound nearly as convincing in his head, as they did from the tone of his voice.

He hated to think he was actually interested in Potter's life. That meant the apocalypse would be coming soon, and Draco hadn't prepared for such an occurrence just yet.

"Thanks, Malfoy. That's truly touching", Potter said sarcastically. His hand went to the back of his neck, where he rubbed his fingers vigorously. Draco watched, fascinated as raven locks stood upright after the harsh treatment.

No wonder Potter always looked like he'd just been shagged, when he treated his hair so abominably.

"I try my best, Potter", Draco shrugged. He shifted his stance when he felt his left leg start to fall asleep. He realized he'd stopped trying to figure out who'd locked them in the cupboard ten minutes ago, which horrified him intensely. He was supposed to be thinking about revenge, not trying to drag secrets out of Potter!

But then again, maybe the culprit _was_ Potter and he was just acting innocent. If Draco forced his deepest and darkest secret out of the dark haired boy, he could use them over Potter as blackmail. Draco's spirits lifted considerably at the thought.

He turned his attention back to Potter with new determination.

"You don't have to tell me", he said in a voice he knew was a sure way to drive Potter up the wall, "I know you Gryffindorks. You don't like to talk about your feelings; you merely chose to act on them. Wasn't that how you snagged the Weaslette? Forcing your horrible mouth on her? Poor girl, no wonder she broke up with you".

He was lying through his teeth. Potter had the finest set of lips he had seen in a long while, but he'd be damned if he voiced his thoughts out loud.

"Not that it's any of your business", Potter replied primly, looking fairly insulted, "but _I _broke up with Ginny. And I do like to talk about my feelings, with my _friends_. Not sure you have any, though".

That last part was a cruel jab, and they both knew it. After the war, whatever influence the Malfoys had, was ripped to shreds. His father had landed in Azkaban for the second time, his mother was on house arrest and the only reason Draco was left off on probation was because stupid heroic Potter had come to his defense.

Fucking Potter, with his stupid Gryffindor morale. The world would be better off, if people like the Weasel, Granger and Potter had disappeared along with the Dark Lord. Of course, Malfoy knew he ought to be grateful Potter had been as charitable as he'd turned out to be. Lord knew he had enough reason to hate Draco.

Maybe he still felt guilty for the way he'd treated Malfoy in sixth year, what with nearly killing him and all. He'd more than made up for his slip of judgment; that was for sure. Days after the war had ended, he'd returned Draco's wand (which still didn't completely listen to him, thanks a lot Potter) and not only fought for Draco's rights but for his mother's too.

Draco was still certain Granger had played a significant role in Potter's sudden boost of chivalry. There was no way Potter would have let him off so easily, when it was clear he despised Draco.

And giving the wand back wasn't that grand a gesture, now was it? After all, Potter now had the most powerful wand of all.

Potter could return to his life with a clear conscience and bright future while Draco had to fight for his reputation and everyday life. There wasn't a knut to the name of Malfoy these days. There'd been times when Draco stepped into the street and people had thrown tomatoes at him. Fucking tomatoes.

But that wasn't the worst of it. Draco had to take the brunt of losing all his friends along with his name. Blaise and Pansy had left the country, Theodore Nott pretended he didn't exist and the only person Draco still hung out with was Vince. And lord knew that guy wasn't much company. After Crabbe's death he wasn't much more than a ragdoll.

And now fucking Potter had the nerve to call him out on his lonely existence. If that wasn't playing dirty, Draco'd be damned.

"Touché, Potter, touché", Draco replied sullenly. Any thought of dragging Potter's secrets out of him had left the blond. Now he was very much determined to figure out the most painful curses he would unleash on the person that had trapped him in a bloody cupboard with _Potter,_ the great bleeding hero.

Potter's face fell, when he noticed Draco's defeated tone. Something akin to shame appeared on his face and he started tugging at his collar. This did nothing to ease Draco's temper because Potter's movement gave Draco a spectacular view of smooth and tanned skin.

Draco's prick throbbed and he clenched his teeth. He bloody well wasn't getting aroused by a patch of Potter's fucking skin. That was just ridiculous.

"I'm sorry, Draco, that was uncalled for", Potter said softly.

For what felt like the fiftieth time that day, Draco gaped at Potter in disbelief. It was a really unattractive look on him and he ought to know better than to let the messy glass-clad git get to him.

But the hero of the wizarding world had actually _apologized_ to him, and more than that, he'd used Draco's first name. Draco felt alarmed at how much he enjoyed hearing Potter use his name. It did little to lessen his arousal, which he worried Potter would start noticing.

"Yeah, well. You're an insensitive little prick", Draco mumbled, desperately trying to think unsexy thoughts. Aunt Bella in a tight leather skirt, snogging the Dark Lord who was dressed in kinky underwear.

That pretty much did it for Draco's libido. He sighed in relief.

"I know, I am rather", Harry had the nerve to blush. Suddenly Draco wasn't so relieved anymore. He'd never noticed how the redness of Potter's cheek made his green eyes stand out more.

Oh hell, he'd curse whoever had put him in the bloody cupboard, within an inch of his life.

"I guess I ought to make up for being so stupid", Potter continued. He scratched his neck again and Draco couldn't help but follow his hand movements. If Potter didn't stop messing up his hair soon, Draco would feel obliged to grab his hand and-

"How could _you_ ever make it up to me?" Draco asked scornfully. He quenched any inappropriate though that appeared after the question.

"Well", Potter looked embarrassed, "this whole cupboard thing. How I-uh- got stuck there when I was a kid".

Draco perked up. It was strange how he got this handed to him on a silver platter, just when he'd decided to give up. Not that Draco would ever cared about whatever story Potter was about to dig up. Probably a sob story about how he got stuck in a cupboard when he'd poked his nosy, pretty nose where it didn't belong.

Draco got more than that.

"Well, this is pretty much it", Potter began, folding his arms and putting so much pressure on them that his knuckles whitened. "When I was little I lived with my aunt and uncle and their son. They were muggles, and pretty bad ones at that. They, uh- they thought I was a bit of a freak, being wizard and all that", Potter paused to check Draco was actually listening. Draco gave an uninterested nod, which seemed to encourage him. Maybe Draco had been right when he said it'd be easier for Potter to tell his story to an unsympathetic listener. He certainly talked with more strength now.

"They thought maybe they could beat the freakiness out of me. They put me in a cupboard much like this one, only smaller, and it served as my bedroom. Then they, well, they didn't really feed me all the time and they always gave me my cousin's hand-me-down clothes."

That explained the ridiculous, ugly oversized clothes Potter had a habit of wearing. Draco always figured he only wore them out of sympathy with the Weasel, who wouldn't know a good pair of designer jeans if they came and smacked him in the face. This part Draco noticed uninterestedly. Mostly, though, he was silently fuming, swept away with the sadness and awkwardness of Potter's, no _Harry's_ (because Draco no longer had it in him to think of him as a Potter when for most of his life he hadn't been one) tale.

He beckoned Harry silently with silvery grey eyes to continue. Which Harry did.

"They told me my parents died in a car-crash. They spread the rumor that I was unstable and a thief, which made everyone in our neighborhood avoid me", Harry fastened his pace, clearly not wanting Draco to take pity on him, which was just as easy as telling Draco to stop trying to beat Harry in Quidditch. "Whenever I did something that was abnormal, I was thrown into the cupboard and it pretty much became my sanctuary".

He paused, and his face was so strong and indifferent, like he was saying: _there, have at it_. But Draco felt with bitterness that he could never mock Harry for what he'd told him. Which made him furious all over again, because he wasn't supposed to turn _soft_ around Harry. He wasn't supposed to think of Harry as a human being. But then again, he'd stopped thinking of Harry as an enemy the moment he'd gotten his wand back. And he'd stopped thinking neutrally of Harry the first time he dreamt of snogging him senseless.

Curse it all to hell, but he'd be damned if he wasn't falling for Harry fucking Potter.

"That's just- just twisted", he finally said, when Harry's eyes became too probing. He held those fierce and proud green eyes calmly. It was strangely relaxing, watching as Harry's guard fell down when he found no malice on Draco's face.

"Yeah, just a bit", Harry finally allowed himself to answer. Draco nodded, pleased.

They fell into a silence, which was awkward because of all the words left unsaid. Draco considered adding something to his comment about Harry's childhood. God knew Harry deserved to know he was worth more than his relatives. But Draco, for all his smooth words and manipulations, couldn't make the words form on his lips.

It only figured that Harry, after everything that'd gone down between them, was the one who spoke first.

"Listen, Draco", there it was again, Draco's name, and suddenly he wanted almost desperately to hear Potter scream that name in throes of passion. "Do you have any idea who locked us in? Anyone you know that's particularly vindictive?"

Draco felt slightly disappointed at the change of subject, although his impassive mask made none of that emotion shine through.

"I'm not surprised that you immediately assume it's _my _fault we're stuck here", he said with a huff. It didn't really annoy him, but he enjoyed the sheepish look on Harry's face.

"Sorry, damn, I keep putting my foot in my mouth, don't I?"

"You do", Draco confirmed. And the look on Harry's face when he said that was absolutely _not _adorable.

"What I was trying to say is, we should catch the bugger, who thought we had nothing better to do with our day than sit in a cupboard", Harry said.

"I can't believe I actually agree with you, Potter", Draco conceded. He wondered if Harry realized that the usual venom that accompanied his last name was lacking. Knowing Harry, and how horribly oblivious he'd been to the Weaslette's fawning over him, he wasn't surprised if Harry thought Draco hated him every bit as much as he'd done after that day on the train, when Harry refused his friendship.

"Well, it was bound to happen. You're nowhere near as difficult these days", Harry said.

Draco inwardly jumped. So maybe Harry wasn't _that_ oblivious. Draco prayed even more fiercely that Harry hadn't seen his arousal from half an hour ago. It wouldn't do if the Chosen One realized that Draco wasn't in the closet just literally.

"Yeah, well. Having the Dark Lord living at your house like it's a damn hotel certainly makes you more apprehensive", Draco said, trying to disguise his surprise by throwing in a name that was tetchy even now.

Harry barely batted an eyebrow, though, which made Draco understand for the first time why Harry was the only one who could have defeated one of the most powerful wizards of all time. Sometimes, Draco still felt the pain of the blasted Mark he'd been forced to take in order to save his family. Not that a part of him hadn't been proud of the Mark. He understood the Dark Lord's policy for pure blood and even supported it to some extent.

But taking away wands from muggle-borns, releasing the dementors, killing anyone that was opposed the Dark Lord's regime, well that was utter bullshit.

"Well, Voldemort can't have been _that_ bad", Harry said ironically. Then, before their conversation could become more macabre, he continued: "you know, I've got a theory about this room".

"Cupboard, say cupboard. A room actually has space for more than two people", Draco interjected.

"Fine, you priss, cupboard. Anyway, I remember Hermione telling me about these smaller versions of the Room of Requirement. She said they'd be pretty much this size and that they only worked with two people that were-"

Here Harry trailed off and a rather charming shade of red crept on his cheek. Draco eyed him curiously, wondering what went through the dark-haired man's mind that made him look like a blushing virgin.

"Do go on, Potter", Draco urged him, trying but failing to look disinterested.

"It's just a theory-"

"Yes, you said that", Draco interrupted, amused.

"And I really don't know when they'd have installed one at Hogwarts. It seems pretty stupid to me", Harry continued.

Draco nodded, a bit impatient. "I know we're stuck here and have no way of getting about, but that doesn't mean I want to spend my time listening to blabbing. Get on with it, for fucks sake".

Draco knew cursing wasn't really a very sophisticated way to go about it, and his father would have probably frowned upon it, but damnit, Draco had cursed more in Harry's company than anyone else's, and he certainly thought curses in his mind enough. And he was really growing weary of Potter's tirade.

"Yeah, sorry. Hermione said the cupboard only opened when two people require some time alone to- work out their issues, and then it sort of sucked them into the closet", Harry finished lamely.

Draco cocked an eyebrow.

"So hypothetically any two people could end up here?"

"Not exactly", Harry sighed and covered his face with long, tanned fingers. Draco watched fascinated, part of him wondering why Harry felt so awkward when he'd been well enough to tell him about his childhood, and another part imagining what else Harry could do with those hands.

"Spit it out then".

Anyone else would have clammed up at Draco's intrusive tone, but it only helped Harry gather himself. He lifted his head from his hands and eyed Draco wearily.

"Only two people who are very attracted to one another could end up here", he finally said. From his tone of voice, he could very well have admitted to murder, and not just being attracted to Draco. But considering who was saying these things, Draco figured he shouldn't be insulted. If anything, he ought to be flattered that someone as good-looking as Harry wanted him.

Now, Draco wasn't putting himself down. He was just as good-looking (and had better hair). However, Harry Potter was a Hero with capital 'H', while Draco was a Death Eater and forever branded.

But to hell with all that, Draco decided, eyeing Harry up in a way he'd never done openly before. Harry looked positively edible and it took all of Draco's willpower not to jump the man right this second.

"So you're attracted to me?" he teased Harry, "never would have pegged you for a fag. Now your breakup with the Weaslette makes much more sense".

"Bisexual, actually, and what happened with Ginny is none of your business", Harry snapped. "Besides, to get stuck here _you_ have to want me too, right?"

"Never said I didn't want you", Draco positively purred. This was the time to move in for the kill, he decided delightedly. "And from now on that ginger kid _is_ my business. I don't share".

Green eyes widened to a comical degree and plush lips parted deliciously. Draco reached the shorter teen in a swift movement and had that gorgeous face trapped in between pale hands just as quickly.

He smiled at the surprise and obvious arousal on Harry's face and tried to ignore how his cock was stretching painfully hard against his custom-made trousers.

"I don't share either", Harry said, letting out a soft breath. That slight movement seemed to be the catalyst of it all because suddenly two lips met in a searing kiss. Draco pressed himself almost ruthlessly against Harry and wound his arms around a thin waist. He attacked delicious lips with vigor, biting and nibbling and drawing out moans that went straight to his groin.

Kissing Harry was like a wet dream come to live. He was every bit as passionate while snogging, as he was on the Quidditch field. When he bit down on Draco's lower lip and let one rough palm slide inside Draco's shirt in search to pinch a nipple, the blonde decided that maybe he'd found a field where Harry had even more talent.

After biting down harshly on Harry's lip one more time, Draco plunged his tongue inside that mouth he'd lusted after for so long, and discovered that Harry tasted bitter and sweet at the same time. He moaned in delighted and proceeded to ruthlessly savor Harry's mouth until he was completely breathless.

He came up for air only to start attacking Harry's neck, which was surprisingly soft for someone who probably only used soap. He made certain to figure out exactly where his attention was appreciated the most, wanting Harry to consider him the best kisser he'd ever had.

He was slightly surprised at how possessive he felt towards the raven boy. He'd always been careful about his possessions, but when it came to boyfriends and girlfriends, he was usually cool and distant.

Except for Harry, who had him fired up just at the thought of the stupid ginger bint.

Draco returned to Harry's lips with new fever, which was only enhanced when Harry's hands managed to stroke him in all the right places. God, with the way things were progressing, he wouldn't last for even a minute longer.

The thought made Draco press his erection against Harry, and he was pleased to find that Harry seemed just as uncomfortable. They both let out a gasp when they're trousers brushed, and then, before Draco saw it coming, Harry pressed harder into Draco and Draco saw stars.

Bloody fucking hell. If things were this great, Draco was never letting Harry go. Ever.

Harry's hands trailed down from Draco's chest and the blonde's lips dried when he realized what Harry was about to do. Then he cried out in pure ecstasy when strong hands closed over his member and gave a sharp tug. He nearly came then and there.

Harry's hand pumped almost painfully and Draco had to press his mouth into the crook of Harry's neck to muffle his helpless cries.

And then, like he was a fucking fourteen year old who had his first wank, Draco came so hard he saw stars all over again. He heard Harry shout and felt smug that the boy had come just from watching him. He felt a coolness in his boxer that he didn't bother cleaning away with a charm.

He gathered up the shorter boy in his arms in what he refused to call a cuddle, and pressed swollen lips into messy, dark locks.

He opened his mouth to comment on how amazing the past half an hour had been, when a click interrupted his uncharacteristically mushy train of thought.

He peered over Harry at the door and noticed it had flung open with flourish. On the other side stood a dumbfounded first year with his arms around a thick book. The tiny boy looked like he was about to faint.

Draco glanced down at Harry, who had also followed the noise and was watching the little guy with surprised amusement.

"Well," Draco drawled, relieved to find that he sounded the same way he had hours ago, "I'll be damned".

He looked over at Harry, who quirked an eyebrow, and together they rose and brushed of their trousers like they had just been sitting their innocently for the past three hours. They shot the first year an impassive look and sauntered out of the cupboard with a smoothness that would have been a pride and joy for any Malfoy.

When they'd rounded a corner, Draco grabbed a hold of Harry's wrist and pressed him against the stone wall. He was satisfied to note he towered over the other boy.

"Just so you know", he leaned in and placed a searing kiss on Harry's waiting lips, "I'm still certain this was an elaborate plot of yours to get the chance to manhandle me", he covered Harry's protests with his mouth.

"And also", he continued, when they broke up for air, not caring about the gasps coming from their fellow classmates, "you need to give me the address to your relatives so that I can use the cruciatus curse on them".

**This oneshot is a number of firsts for me: my first slash, first fanfic, first story with more explicit content. I'd love constructive criticism and positive reviews:) (because I'm very self-conscious)**

**Oh, and also: if you spot mistakes, please tell me! English is my third language.**


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